


The Road to Calais

by baja_king



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: An SS general arrives when Hogan's operation suffers a bottleneck. Did someone betray him? A short story.





	The Road to Calais

**Author's Note:**

> Not written for a challenge.

#  **The Road to Calais**

Hogan did not like unexpected arrivals.  He preferred a smooth operation.  The Underground continued sending escaping prisoners of war despite his orders to the contrary.  He had seven men in the tunnels with no way safely to send them to the next station.  Schnitzer remained in the hospital, an inadvertent victim of an air raid.  The veterinarian would survive but a neighbor took care of swapping the dogs.  If luck favored the bomber pilot, the bottleneck would be temporary.

Standing in formation, the men of Barracks 2 played harmless tricks on Schultz.  Hogan laughed despite himself.  Schultz was more of a friend than an enemy, a man reluctantly pressed into service again due to the war machine needs.  He had to guard the men but he did his best to do so in a humane fashion.

“Jolly jokers,” grumbled Schultz as he retrieved his helmet from Carter.

Carter shrugged, “Well, it’s such a nice sunny day that I thought you’d like a little extra fresh air.”

Kinchloe said, “Nothing beats a warm breeze blowing through your hair.”

Schultz scoffed, “Try telling that to the bigshot.”

“REPORT!”

Hogan knew the routine as Klink exited the Kommandantur and headed towards the formation.  He quietly said to Schultz, “All present.”

“I know that,” grumbled Schultz before heading to his traditional spot.  He stood at attention, saluted Klink, and said, “All present, Herr Kommandant.”

“Excellent,” smiled Klink as he quickly returned the salute.  “Effective immediately, all prisoners are confined to the barracks until further notice.”

The prisoners raised assorted protests but Hogan spoke as senior officer, “What gives?  We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s just a safety precaution,” smiled Klink.

LeBeau said, “Bien.  That’ll give us time to start digging a tunnel.”

Klink frowned, “Dismissed!”

The prisoners reluctantly returned to the barracks.  Hogan went to his room and set up the coffee pot.  His cadre assembled, understanding that something was amiss if Klink was confining prisoners to the barracks.  The wiretap revealed nothing except the occasional outburst in frustration as Klink attempted paperwork.  Somehow, the prisoners missed an important telephone call or written order.

Newkirk hissed, “Bloody hell.  Confine us if you have to, mate, but at least have a reason.”

Carter shrugged, “Maybe he’s just showing us who’s the boss.”

“I’m the boss and never forget that,” Hogan sternly said.  “Klink rarely takes the initiative.  He’s afraid of getting into trouble.  No, something’s behind this.”

Olsen called from the common room, “Mercedes Benz W31 Type G4 staff car just pulled into the compound.  It’s parking in front of the Kommandantur.”

Hogan went to the doorway and asked, “What kind of paint?”

Olsen replied, “Gloss gray body with gloss black fenders and running boards.”

Kinchloe said, “That’s an officer who doesn’t go to the front.”

Olsen said, “It isn’t Burkhalter.  It’s an SS general.”

Hogan returned to his room and sat at his desk.  He did not need eyes in the back of his head to know his men wore worried looks on their faces.  The SS was trouble.  Visiting a Luftstalag was not something the SS entertained unless a matter involved treachery, treason, or espionage.  Hogan suffered Klink’s awkwardness receiving such an important guest.

_“I’m terribly sorry,” apologized Klink.  “I was not informed of your arrival.”_

_“I am General Siegfried Stoppelbein.  I’m not here for your apologies.  Where is Colonel Robert Hogan?”_

Kinchloe said, “That’s not a good sign.”

_Klink replied, “All prisoners are confined to barracks as ordered including Colonel Hogan, Herr General.”_

_“Good,” said the man._

_Klink asked, “May I ask what is your interest?  Colonel Hogan has been a prisoner for two years.  I doubt he has any useful information for you.”_

_The man said, “I merely wish to taunt him.  Move him to the Cooler.”_

_“Right away, Herr General,” Klink fawned.  “Schultz!”_

Carter exclaimed, “This just went from not a good sign to definitely a bad sign.”

“Put it up,” said Hogan as he nodded towards the coffee pot.  The SS reputation instilled fear within many.  He slowly continued, “Someone may have talked.  Kinch, keep an eye on things.  If this goes south…”

Kinchloe said, “Call in the plane and get the hell out of Dodge City.”

When Schultz arrived, Hogan resigned himself to the fact that he might see a firing squad before the day’s end.  He knew Kinchloe understood.  Hogan would buy as much time as possible to allow the others to escape.  He halfheartedly made the protest of going to the Cooler.  Then he realized he was overthinking the situation.  Perhaps the general was bored.  No, the man specifically stated his name.

Hogan’s mind raced with different scenarios.  His team ran the finest escape operation in all of Germany.  His outfitting and embarkation center helped hundreds of Allied prisoners escape so they could rejoin the war effort.  Sometimes, he was overzealous with his sabotage efforts and had to lay low.  London counted on his espionage abilities.

The Cooler was a miserable place.  Hogan leaned against the cell wall with his arms crossed.  The concrete walls refused to retain heat.  He listened as one of the younger guards muttered expletives as the stove refused to remain lit.  Hogan knew he would not benefit from its warmth as his cell was at the opposite end of the hall.  Then he heard the anxious guards kowtowing to the general.  _This is it_.

The cell door opened and Hogan looked at the man.  He saw a highly decorated officer with a frozen scowl.  Stoppelbein entered and spat on the ground in disgust.  Hogan wanted to protest.  The cell door closed and Hogan felt a chill run up his spine.  He finally found his voice and asked, “What do you want, Fritz?”

Quietly and in proper Queen’s English came the reply, “Today I am General Siegfried Stoppelbein.  Of course, in my line of work, I travel under so many names that sometimes I’m unsure of who I really am.”

Hogan raised an eyebrow, “Your line of work?”

“My dear Colonel Hogan, it was clever the way you got Wagner out of this prison camp.”

Hogan said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” said the man.  “Pity that.  I wanted to thank you for getting the Messerschmitt plans out of camp as well.  Until we meet again.”

Hogan said with suspicion, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man said, “Very well.  I understand your situation, Papa Bear.  I wanted to see you before going to France.  Perhaps if I asked you to call me the Tower of Babel…”

Hogan’s eyes widened.  He never before met a person who had a codename for another codename.  He finally said, “Nimrod?”

“At your service,” said the man.

Hogan shook his head and asked, “Why here?  Why me?”

“Because Lord Mountbatten needs me,” replied Nimrod.  “I’m a humble servant in the X-Troops.  I’m going on a mission that I may not survive.”

Hogan nervously laughed, “But you’re one of England’s greatest master spies.”

Nimrod said, “Colonel Hogan, we need this war ended.  As we speak, the Allies are preparing a major invasion.  I’m going to France.  My orders are to allow the Jerries to capture me and fool them into thinking the landing is at Calais.  They’ll divert their forces and we’ll have the upper hand at Normandy.”

Hogan let out a low whistle and said, “I’m glad I didn’t draw the short straw.”  He asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Nimrod said, “I was born Stefan Rosenberg in Frankfurt am Main.  I became a British national before the last Great War and now I am Stephen Rigby.  I’m going into France disguised as a German field agent impersonating a member of the Maquis named Stéphane Dubillier.  In case I fail, should they kill me outright, I need someone who can fool them into thinking the invasion is Calais.  You’re the best man I know.”

It sounded incredible.  Hogan constantly managed miracles of assorted sizes.  Diverting thousands of soldiers along with tanks, artillery, and countless additional armaments required a major miracle coupled with a ton of luck.  He said, “You definitely drew the short straw.”

“I volunteered,” said Nimrod.  “What is one life in the scheme of current events?  You know what they’re doing.  This must end, and when it finally does, men like you and I will be lost from the pages of history.”

Hogan shrugged, “Who needs fame anyway?”  He saw Nimrod’s determination and said, “Good luck.”  He extended his arm and the master spy reciprocated.  The two men shook hands.  Hogan continued, “Calais.”

Nimrod smiled, “Calais.”  He released his hand and went to the cell door.  He summoned Schultz and ordered the guard to release Hogan after he left the camp.  In perfect step, Nimrod left as any high-ranking general would.

When Schultz finally returned, Hogan quietly left the Cooler.  He saw his men in the compound.  It began a strange day but things returned to normal.  Hogan smiled when he saw the Tierarzt truck in the compound and noticed Schnitzer arguing with Langenscheidt.  Then he noticed LeBeau ushering one of the hidden men into the back of the truck.

Kinchloe approached and quietly said, “I guess I don’t need to call the plane.”

“Not today Kinch,” smiled Hogan.

Kinchloe asked, “What did General Stoppelbein want anyway?”

“That was no general,” said Hogan.

Kinchloe asked, “Then what?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” smiled Hogan.


End file.
